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Exploring Womanhood > Journals > Growing Together: A Journal From Mother to Daughter > Entries
Entry
#13 ~ October 30, 2002
~ Losing our voice
Dear Charon,
I still can't
believe it. I remember my first reaction was that it just couldn't
possibly be true. It couldn't have happened, not right now. When
I heard the news on the radio, I just wanted to turn it off, go
back home, and start my errands again.
One of the
hardest things about hearing the news was that I knew I'd have
to break it to my family when I got home. Grandpa and Grandma,
Aunt Katy, Uncle Bill and Aunt Dawn, and Dawn's brother Mark had
all come over for lunch. We had just had a wonderful time hearing
about a recent trip my parents took to Appalachia. After we ate,
they all offered to babysit you while I ran some errands.
As I heard
the sad news, I pictured you all at home, playing together. I
knew you were having a marvelous time. I didn't want to ruin that.
But I also knew that I needed to share and talk about it, and
I was thankful that so many in my family would surround me very
soon.
You were all
so cute when I walked in. You were in the center of the room,
with everyone in a circle around you. Everyone had on a scarf
or a hat from the dress-up basket. Everyone's attention was focused
on you. You looked like you were directing a play, and you were
thrilled. What a great babysitting team!
I did my best
to focus on the fun. My family is so wonderful and generous, and
they all started asking me about how my errands went, not just,
"How did it go?" but remembering specific details about the things
I had to do: "How many items did they take at the consignment
shop?" "I know of another one if you want to try there." "Was
Melanie home when you tried to drop off her pan?" After answering
a few questions, I said, "Um, I need to tell you guys something."
Everyone got quiet. "I just heard some sad news about Paul Wellstone
on the radio."
"What?" All
the smiles vanished, replaced by concerned looks. My eyes got
teary and my voice wavered.
"He was killed
in a plane crash this morning. It was one of those little planes,
only eight people aboard. His wife, daughter Marcia, and three
staff members were with him, and they died, too." I paused between
each sentence, fighting back tears.
My dad looked
at me, stunned, and then he bowed his head. My mom was silent
and somber. Then I looked over at you, Charon. You were very quiet,
still moving scarves and hats around, but knowing to let us talk.
You sensed perfectly that we all needed time to work through some
sad feelings.
"What a huge
loss," my dad said. "And what a horrible way to die." My mom noted,
"They'd better pull those t.v. ads quickly. Maybe they should
postpone the election now." Bill, Dawn and Mark offered words
of regret and sadness, trying to ease the grief and pain in the
room. Katy gave me a comforting look, and began to play quietly
with you. Later, she told me she knew how hard it must have been
to be the bearer of this awful news.
Charon, I
want to tell you a bit about Senator Paul Wellstone. He was a
politician I deeply admired. He really believed in everything
he fought for. He freely expressed his passionate views. He was
sensitive and compassionate. He loved people, and worked so hard
for them. He reminded me a lot of my dad, your Grampa Bill.
I didn't know
him personally, but he was one of those rare people in the public
eye that can inspire a feeling of closeness. So many people in
Minnesota are feeling a deep sense of loss right now. I'm one
of them. He can never be replaced.
My parents
were in D.C. in the spring of 2001, with an Elderhostel group.
They usually don't "do" tour groups, but were interested in this
one because there were lots of opportunities to explore the political
scene up close. One opportunity everyone in the group had was
to make an appointment with their senator, and my parents took
advantage of that. They had a personal appointment with Paul Wellstone,
and they loved it. They got to tell him directly how much his
work meant to them.
The weekend
after the tragedy, I called my mom and asked her to send me the
photo they had of them with Paul, and also write a few words about
their visit. I want to share those things with you, Charon.
Grandma wrote:
"You asked
us for memories of our visit with Paul, when we were in D.C. with
the Elderhostel program in May, 2001. I remember being in awe
going into the office building. We found his office and entered.
He had two young male receptionists who were very welcoming and
put us 'at ease.' One of them told us that his parents had a lake
home on --------- Lake and it was fun to have that in common.
We had to wait a while (they were very apologetic) as he was in
an 'impromptu' meeting with a family from Afghanistan. They were
asking for his help in bringing a family member to the U.S., who
was being oppressed by the government there, and in physical danger.
Paul Wellstone never turned any person away who needed help.
"When it was
our turn, we were ushered into his office. It was lined with books.
He came in, shook our hands and asked us about ourselves. We told
him we were retired educators, which pleased him, as he is a former
educator, as well as his daughter Marcia (who died in the plane
crash) and I believe his brother is too—not sure about that—I
know that the subject of his brother came up, it may be that he
was working on mental health being covered by health insurance
at that time and I know his brother had mental health issues.
(By the way, Wellstone worked with Republican Pete Domenici from
NM on that legislation—and when Domenici was interviewed
for his reaction to Wellstone's death, he broke down and had to
stop the interview.) Anyway, we talked a bit about education issues—and
he said something to the effect that things would get done, that
he "had something up his sleeve" and that he would continue to
work and add amendments till the Congress got tired of him.
"At the close
of the visit, Dad thanked him for all that he was doing for all
Americans, and he got a bit humble. I'm sure he wasn't comfortable
with the praise. I mentioned that we were absolutely NOT for tax
cuts, at which he responded, "well, that makes 3 of us!"
"When we were
in the reception area, a photographer came in with a really big
'industrial/professional' camera. Turned out that she was there
to take our picture with Senator Wellstone. What a thrill—Dad
says you can tell how much he was in awe of the experience by
the look on his face in the picture.
"Hope this
helps! Love, MOM"
You can see
the picture of them below this entry.
At the end
of the day, after you went to bed, your daddy and I got to discuss
the sad news together. "It's just unbelievable," your dad said.
"I keep seeing pictures of him, on the news and on websites, and
I just can't believe it."
"I know,"
I said. "He was so alive. He was known for his alive-ness. He
was loved for it."
We are still
struggling. I keep thinking about what he would want us to do,
what everyone on that plane would want us to do. I've been researching
the candidates now, taking lots of time to think about my political
beliefs and about the future of politics. I've been thinking about
how Wellstone believed that every act is a political act. I've
thought about this as I've talked with neighbors, as I've bought
groceries, as I've cared for my family.
Paul Wellstone
said, "Politics is what we create by what we do, by what we hope
for, by what we dare to imagine."
My beautiful
daughter, I promise to be a role model for you, showing you through
my example how important it is to treat people with kindness and
compassion. I hope for a bright future for you, and for all the
children in the world. I imagine a country where we take care
of each other, embrace each other, and work for peace.
I love you,
Charon
Mom
Celebrating
Grandpa Bill's 60th birthday, one week after Paul Wellstone's
death. (Back row: Grandma Charon, Uncle Bill, Grandpa Bill,
Uncle Dave; front row: Aunt Dawn, me, Daddy and you, Aunt
Katy.)
Click on photo for larger view.
Grandpa
Bill and Grandma Charon meet Senator Paul Wellstone in May,
2001.
Click on photo for larger view.
Copyright © 2001 - 2003 Caryl Mousseaux. All rights reserved.
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